


What happens in Vegas...

by thiswilldrivemecrazy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Card Games, Developing Relationship, Drinking, M/M, shennanigans, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiswilldrivemecrazy/pseuds/thiswilldrivemecrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written from this http://lowlizah.tumblr.com/post/93846639298/prompt-clint-is-laying-low-in-vegas-because prompt on Tumblr.</p><p>Clint is lying low in Vegas, and playing cards with Bucky, also lying low. He makes a side bet and they bond over drinking and hanging out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year everyone!

"I'll see yours, and raise you another two hundred." Clint threw his chips onto the table, and one rolled across, clinking against his opponent's pile. The dealer reached over and moved the chips in front of him. Clint grinned, sending the challenge to the other man. They were the last ones left at the table and had been exchanging chips back and forwards for almost two hours now and this was the first hand with a real chance to change the game.

Bucky looked at his cards and frowned. The blonde man opposite him couldn't have anything that much better than he did. "I think you're bluffing," he said, shrugging a little and absentmindedly rolling a couple of chips between the fingers of his left hand.

"Well," and Clint's grin widened as he heard the opening notes of a song come on in the back ground. He took another mouthful of his drink (something god awfully pink, but it was sweet and alcoholic), put it down and continued, "why don't you shut up and put your money where your mouth is, then?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him and slid the chips onto the table. He leant back in his chair, and took a swig of his own bottle of beer. It wasn't too bad. Wasn't too good either. He eyed off his opponent as the card was turned over. Another jack? He kept his face straight. His three of a kind had just become a full house.

Clint smiled for a moment, hidden behind the last mouthful of his pink monstrosity in a cup. His three of a kind had just become four jacks. He put his drink down and straightened his expression.

"Your bet, sir," the dealer said to Clint. "The blind is fifty."

Clint took a slow breath, if he played this right, he might just clean out his opponent and win the table. He picked up two chips. "Blind." He put the chip on the table. "And raise $100."

"Your bet, sir."

Barnes looked down at his chips. "I'll see yours and raise you $200."

"Money where your mouth is, huh?" Clint said. "You, I like. Tell you what, let's cut the back and forward. All in for," his chips clicked as he counted them. "$683. You've got what, $500? Or so?" He looked the other man up and down appraisingly. "Call it even with a drink ... And your room key."

"Sir, you can't bet like that..."

Clint shrugged and raised an eyebrow suggestively at the other man. "Make it an unofficial thing."

Barnes shrugged as if he didn't care and slid his chips into the middle of the table. He toasted the blonde with the last of his beer and nodded. "Money where my mouth is," he said, in chorus with the song that was playing in the background. He tapped his chest pocket with his gloved left hand and grinned. "And..." Was he drunk? He didn't go back to strangers rooms, but he didn't get drunk easily either. "I'll take your side bet."

"Sirs, the house cannot..."

"Yeah yeah. Don't get your knickers in a twist, sweetie." He rolled a $50 chip across the table to tip the dealer. "Just a bit of harmless flirting. We've been sitting here for hours and I don't even know your name, buddy."

Bucky couldn't hide his surprise. Slurred as it was, it almost sounded like his own name slurred, but no-one knew he was here, did they? That was the whole point of coming here, to hide. That and he could remember wanting to road trip here, but that was by the by.

"If you win, I might just be honest with it," he looked at the dealer who nodded for him to reveal his cards.

"Full house. Tens full of Jacks. And your cards, sir?"

Clint couldn't hide his grin as he flipped his pair of jacks over.

"And four of a kind. The pot is yours. And that is the game, gentlemen." The dealer slid the neat pile of chips across the table to Clint and started to tidy up the table.

Clint offered his hand over the table to his opponent and grinned. "Good game, buddy," he said. "So, where're you gonna take me for that drink?"

Bucky was frowning as he shook the other man's hand. He should have known... He should have seen his opponents reaction when the second jack came out. When had he gotten so bad at poker? "Good game," he replied a little ungraciously and stood up. He left a fiver on the table for the dealer and started to walk out of the room.

Clint gathered his chips quickly and followed the other man out of the room. “Hey! Hey! Wait up!” He almost ran into the other man as he stopped suddenly. He straightened up a little as he regained his balance and poked the other man in his left shoulder. “You.” He poked him again. “Owe me a drink, your name, and your room key,” he said, grinning. He poked the shoulder again. It was oddly solid, but he shrugged it off. The guy was definitely well built and kind of cute, even if he did need a haircut, or at the very least a shave.

Bucky frowned as his opponent kept poking his shoulder. He sighed. He needed another drink and to be somewhere quiet. “Well, you took all my money, sooo, you’re gonna need to buy the drink. But. Get a bottle of something, and I’ll tell you my name,” he reached into his pocket for the keycard. “And we can go back and drink it in my room.”

Clint grinned. “That wasn't the bet, but I see your reasoning. What’s your poison?”

Bucky shrugged. “Something strong? I'll drink whatever you like.”

“Ha. That’s dangerous, buddy,” Clint replied. “But I'll get us something.” He threw his left arm around the other guy’s shoulders. "C'mon." Clint patted the other man's left shoulder and damn, that was some solid muscle. He glanced at the other man out of the corner of his eye and wondered just what he looked like without his shirt and jacket on.

Ten minutes later, they were at the door of Bucky's room. Bucky fumbled at the lock for a moment as he put the card in upside down before he managed to open the door and let them both into the room. Clint walked straight to the minibar and retrieved two cups. He poured a generous measure of the whiskey as he toed off his shoes.

"Nice room you've got here," he said. "So this is two thirds of the bet, well, kind of, I did buy the drink, but we'll leave that by the by. You still need to tell me your name."

Bucky shrugged. He sat on the edge of the bed and unlaced his boots. He slid them off and placed them near the bedside table, neatly folding the laces into the boots. He looked over at Clint. "Call me Jay." 

"Jay? Jay as in a bird? Or...?" Clint shook his head and decided that would be too silly. 

"Short for James," Bucky offered. 

 

Clint laughed and handed him one of the drinks. "The second name on that better not be Bond."

"Barnes." What the hell? If there was going to be too much trouble between them, it would be relatively easy to kill the other man and keep running. 

Clint raised an eyebrow at him. That had been remarkably painless. He'd expected more resistance over getting the guys name. "After the war hero? Or the singer ? Or...?" Clint sat down on the other side of the bed and reclined back against the pillows. 

"After my uncle, I think," Bucky replied.

"After your uncle? Well, that's kinda boring."

"Screw you." Bucky replied. 

"Maybe later." 

"Ha. Like to see you try." 

Clint looked across at him. "Really?" 

Bucky shrugged and hid his smile behind the glass. "Well, I don't know your name, so it's hard to actually make up my mind on that one." 

"Caaaall me ..." Clint pursed his lips a moment. What was he going to say here? As far as he could tell Jay-James-Barnes was telling the truth about his name, and he liked to think that he was pretty good at telling that about people. "Call me Francis." It wasn't entirely wrong, he told himself. It was one of his names. 

Bucky sputtered and tried not to laugh. "Well, that's certainly not boring," he said. He drained his glass and stood up, walking over to the cabinet where Clint had left the bottle. 

"Hey!" Clint protested. "That's not fair, Jimmy." He stuck his tongue out at the other man while his back was turned. 

Bucky filled his own glass again before returning to sit on the bed, bringing the bottle with him and putting it on the bedside table. "Hey, I never said you could call me Jimmy. Francis." 

"Hey, what about my drink, Jimmy?" He waved his glass at Bucky. He knew he was starting to get drunk, and that he should probably stop, but what the hell. He was in Vegas. He was feeling relatively safe. And he'd found someone to share the bottle with - it wasn't like he was drinking the whole thing on his own. Again. And the guy wasn't half bad looking. What was the worst that could happen? They get drunk and get married in Vegas? "C'mon." 

"What's your real name, then, Francis?" Bucky teased.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm Clint." 

"How do you get Francis from Clint?" 

"Second name. Clint Francis Barton." 

Bucky felt as though he should probably know that name, but he wasn't sure where from. He shrugged and filled Clint's glass up. "Was that that hard?" 

Clint rolled his eyes, but he toasted Bucky anyway. "Cheers." 

"Cheers." Bucky returned the toast. They sat in silence for a little while, sipping at their drinks and a little uncertain about just what to say to each other. It was companionable enough, if a little strange.

"So, what're you doing out here, anyway?" Clint asked after he had almost finished his next drink.

Bucky had been lost in thought for a while, and it took him a moment to acknowledge the question. "What am I doing out here?" he repeated. He shrugged. "What does anyone do in Vegas? Holiday?" Hide out? "Losing all my money? Well, not quite all, but ..." He shrugged again and picked the bottle up to refill their glasses. "You?" 

"Eh... 'bout the same? Though, winning all your money, rather than losing all mine." He moved a little to get more comfortable on the bed and ended up slipping closer to Bucky. He was close enough that he could just lean over a little and rest his head on his shoulder. Should he? It looked comfortable, or was that the alcohol thinking for him? There had been the challenge to try and screw him...

Clint leant over and rested his head against Bucky's shoulder. Once again, it felt very hard under the jacket, and Clint sat up a little straighter and poked the arm. "Wha's even with this?" he asked, this time wrapping his hand around Bucky's bicep. It didn't feel like any other arm he'd ever felt. "An' why do you wear a glove all the time?" 

Bucky sat up straighter very quickly, dislodging Clint's grip and almost spilling both of their drinks. If he found out who he was and started yelling or tried to call the police, or... He put his drink down and stood up. The thoughts were rather sobering. Should he kick Clint out of the room? Give him a chance to get away and move on? He had enough money left to maybe make it to LA if he could hitch part way.

Clint pitched sideways as Bucky stood up quickly, and he barely managed to not spill his drink. "Woah. Woah, S'rry," Clint said. "Well, kinda. But seriously. Aren't you hot in here? In that jacket and gloves?" 

"You need to get out of here." 

"Nope." Clint sat up crosslegged on the bed and reached behind him to put his drink down too. "Look, I don't care, ok? Whatever's under there. 'm just curious. If it's muscle, I'm very impressed." He stood up and stumbled the couple of paces to where Bucky was standing. "I don't care what it is, really." He reached up to the top of the zip of Bucky's jacket. Bucky stood stiffly, torn between what he should and shouldn't do - the night had been so much fun so far. More fun than he'd had in a very long time, but he didn't want it to end in a way that it would if Clint saw who he was. Despite all his concerns (and he tried to tell himself this was the alcohol affecting his decision), he let Clint undo the jacket and slide it off his shoulders. The baggy t-shirt he was wearing underneath hid his upper arm, and it wasn't until his forearms were revealed that he was given away. 

Clint whistled softly, glancing between the arm and Bucky's face. He reached out a little hesitantly to touch it, running his fingers lightly over the joints. Bucky clenched his left fist, and the plates moved slightly. Clint's face broke into a grin. "Pair of idiots were are," he said, chuckling a little. "You weren't kidding when you said you weren't named after the war hero, were you?" He poked Bucky's chest. "I know who you are." He laughed a little louder. "But what I don't know is how the hell I ran into you here. The Winter Soldier, hiding out in Vegas. And the one person who I decide to flirt with the entire time I've been out here." He ran his hands up and down the arm, enjoying the feel of the metal arm under his fingers. He watched Bucky carefully as he did so, and when Bucky didn't object, he leant forward and kissed him. 

It was so far beyond what he had expected on someone finding out who he really was, that he reacted instinctively and kissed Clint back. When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, he slid the glove off his left hand and lifted it, pushing Clint back onto the bed. Clint didn't resist at all, and was grinning stupidly up at him. "So you know who I am, and your first reaction is to kiss me, hmm? Tell me you've seen - or at least heard what I can do?" His voice was low and intense, very different from how he had been speaking earlier. 

Clint nodded. "You shot my partner at Odessa," he said. "I know who you are." 

"And who are you to be partnered with the Black Widow?" Bucky asked, intrigued. How had he managed to run into a SHIELD (or Ex-SHIELD) agent while in hiding in Vegas of all places? Was this lucky, or unlucky? Then again, the man now under him was not reacting like he'd expect of a SHIELD agent. He ran his left hand lightly down Clint's side, tracing small circles just above Clint's waistband.

"You might have heard of Hawkeye?" Clint said. The sensation of being caressed by that hand - the one that he knew could do so much damage - was distracting, very distracting. 

"I have."

"That's..." His breath caught in his throat as Bucky's hand traced along the waistband and crossed his stomach. "That's me."

Bucky smirked at the reaction. "So, Hawkeye, if you know who I am, then you know what kind of damage this," He traced his fingers back across Clint's stomach and gripped his right hip, "can do." 

Clint kept his gaze focussed on Bucky, and he couldn't find the words to reply, so he just nodded. Bucky's confidence in the situation grew and he leant forward over Clint. "Do you want to find out what else it can do?" he said quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint woke slowly the next morning as he felt a cool breeze on his back and heard the soft click of the bathroom door closing. He blinked at the bright light coming in through a crack in the curtains, and could almost _see_ the heat outside. He was slightly hungover, and a little stiff from the previous night's activities, but in general felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. He sat up and stretched, looking around for where his clothes had ended up. What was he meant to do here? Did he treat it like a one night stand and skip out while James - Jay? Jim? Barnes? _Bucky_? Should he call him Bucky? - was in the bathroom, but that seemed rather rude, plus trying to find someone again in Vegas was going to be nigh on impossible. If the other guy chased him out, he chased him out. 

He heard the shower start up and decided that he would wait like a mature adult, and they could talk things over. Who knew, maybe they could turn this hideout in Vegas thing into a bit more of a boys week (or weeks) away? Once he had shirt and underwear back on, he picked up the room service menu and dialled the number. 

"Yeah, I'd like two big breakfasts, an extra pot of coffee and ... No, no I'm having breakfast with a friend - charge it to Room 1640. My shout. Yeah, so, two big breakfasts, extra coffee. Yep. Thanks." Clint hung up the phone. He hated calling and talking to people, especially when they interrupted him, but food was important, and importantly, if they got room service, they didn't have to get dressed. 

Bucky was drying his hair when he heard the front door open and close. So Barton had left without saying goodbye? He couldn't say he was disappointed, but given the guy's background, it would mean he would have to move on, and he had been hoping to hang here for a while. He finished drying himself off, and walked out into the main room, holding the towel in his left hand and expecting the room to be empty. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Clint sitting cross legged on the bed with two trays of a very large breakfast. 

Bucky reacted instinctively and pulled the towel around his waist. 

"I didn't pin you for someone who would show off like that," Clint said, smirking around a mouthful of pancakes. The smirk turned into a full fledged smile when he saw Bucky - when he saw the goddam Winter Soldier blush. "I ordered breakfast. Don't worry. My shout. Promise." He swallowed the pancakes and smiled again. 

"I thought... I thought you had left," Bucky said, a little confused.

"Thought about it. But I didn't think I would find you again." 

"I don't follow." 

"There's a lot of people here, James," Clint said slowly. "I didn't think I'd be able to find you again if I left." 

Bucky pulled on his underwear and wrapped one of the bathrobes around his shoulders before sitting, a little hesitantly, next to Clint on the bed and reaching for the second tray of food. "Why would you want to find me again?" he asked quietly. 

Clint reached across and squeezed Bucky's leg. "I like you," he said simply. "And we can hide much more effectively if we're around to watch each other's back." There were a few other thoughts in his head, things like he really should be thinking about how to get Bucky back to Steve, rather than them both hiding out here, but to be quite honest with himself, he didn't want to go back to the team anyway.

"You like me? You strange in the head, Clint?" Bucky asked. "I ... I don't deserve people 'liking' me." 

"You're damn good in bed, Jimmy, and ..."

"Don't call me Jimmy." 

"But James is so... formal. And I'm not sure if 'Bucky' is the right..." 

"I have to get used to it at some stage," Bucky replied. 

"Fine. You're damn good in bed, Bucky, and you're interesting to boot. What's not to like?" 

"Brainwashed, ex-Hydra assassin," he mumbled, rather mournfully. He stabbed at a piece of bacon rather half heartedly. 

"Brainwashed, ex-SHIELD-which-was-really-Hydra-so-we're-kind-of-even-on-that operative," Clint replied. 

He wasn't entirely sure why he was being so open, but it had helped when he had met Natasha all those years ago, and she had been a lot more skittish than Bucky was being, even with his current deer-in-the-headlights expression. He was eating the food, though, so that was something good in the whole situation.

"Brainwashed?" Bucky frowned, confused. Surely SHIELD would not have brainwashed all their agents? He gave up on trying to spear the bacon with his fork, put the offending cutlery down and picking the bacon up in his left hand.

"Long story." Clint watched him eat the bacon, slightly fascinated by the dexterity in his fingers. He'd experienced that dexterity first hand last night, but he hadn't really been able to watch the hand and arm in action. 

Bucky finished chewing and looked curiously at Clint. Should he push? If he did push would Clint want to know more about his own experiences? 

Clint read his expression clearly and sighed. He poked his fork at the hash browns, and stared at the end of the bed. "Aliens invaded my mission. I got hit with a glowy stick, and was under his control for three or so days. Almost brought down the Helicarrier, and killed - well, I don't know how many people I killed, really. No-one would tell me." 

"Aliens?" 

"Yeah." Clint looked up at Bucky again. He hadn't expected that to be the thing the other guy would focus on out of that sentence. "Look, I know three days is nothing on, what, 100 years?" 

"Sixty or so. I'm not that old. Well..." Bucky shrugged. "It's ok. Really. I know you weren't trying to..." 

"Yeah. No... I ..." Clint ran a hand through his hair. He knew he was getting defensive and he really didn't want their discussion to go in that direction. "I don't know, but you asked, so..." 

Bucky could see that the discussion was headed in an awkward direction, and decided to change the topic. "How did you end up in Vegas?" 

"After SHIELD crashed and burned, and all that intel was on the net, I... didn't think it was safe to stay in New York. It was easy enough to find my way here overland, and it's a better place than most to hide out. Provided..." He waved his hand a little dismissively. "... I don't accidentally hustle anyone here." 

"Or run into other wanted fugitives?" Bucky said. 

"I'm not wanted per se. Just... I think there's a few agencies who want to question me over my loyalties." Clint shrugged and eyed off the last piece of bacon on Bucky's plate. "I can't imagine it would, uh, help my cause though if someone found out I was hiding out with you." 

"Oh." 

"No. I didn't... I don't mean it like that. I'm screwing this up, aren't I?" 

Bucky didn't reply to Clint. If that was what Clint thought, then maybe it was better if they parted ways, but he hadn't felt this comfortable around another guy since Steve. 

"I'll finish breakfast and then go, then," Clint said, a little sadly. 

"No. Don't." Bucky reached out a hand and grabbed Clint's wrist. "Don't. We'll figure something out." 

Bucky looked so helpless, that Clint couldn't tell him no. "Ok. Ok, we'll figure something out."


	3. Chapter 3

"So. We should probably... I don't know..." Clint started to tidy the plates and poured out the extra coffee into their cups.

"Yeah." Bucky stacked his plates on top of Clint's and picked up his cup of coffee. 

Clint nursed his coffee for a moment, thinking. "You know, we should probably shift into the one room. Save some money." He took a sip of his coffee. He kept his expression carefully even and continued, "'Specially if you're going to continue gambling like you were playing last night."

"Hey!" 

Clint laughed, and then tried and failed to hide his laugh by drinking another mouthful of coffee. Unfortunately, as smooth as he was trying to play it, he choked and sputtered, spraying coffee everywhere. He started coughing and couldn't catch his breath. Bucky laughed as Clint sputtered and then reached out and patted Clint on the back until he stopped coughing. 

Once Clint got his breathing back under control, he drew in a deep breath and looked over at Bucky, a little confused. Seriously, if this guy was the Winter Soldier, where the hell, _why_ the hell did he know what to do for a coughing fit? But then, if there was just as much Bucky Barnes in there, and Rogers had been as sick as history suggested, maybe there was good reason for it. He wasn't entirely sure if he was ok about being looked after like that, but he appreciated the help.

"Thanks." 

Bucky shrugged. "No problem." He drained the last of his coffee and stood up, picking the breakfast tray up and moving it to the desk against the wall. 

"So, are you suggesting your place? Or mine?" He asked, leaning against the desk. "Or have you choked on the idea?"

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. The Winter Soldier has a sense of humour," Clint said sarcastically. 

"And apparently Hawkeye can't manage to drink coffee." Clint stuck his tongue out at Bucky, who laughed. "Seriously though, whose room?"

"Mine's closer to a fire escape," Clint said. "Easy getaways and all that. Plus I've got two beds if we didn't want to share."

"You don't want to share a bed with me after last night?" Bucky raised an eyebrow.

Clint looked at Bucky. "I didn't want to presume," he said. "But bigger room, too."

Bucky nodded. "My stuff's all there," he said, pointing at a bag sitting next to the wardrobe. "Just waiting for you to put your pants back on."

***  
"You're right, your room is bigger." Bucky slipped out of his jacket and flopped onto the second bed. 

Clint watched him stretch out, paying much more attention to the very nice physique the other man had now that he wasn't drunk, nor distracted by other activities. He watched the arm move too, the plates smoothly recalibrating to accommodate the motion. Memories of the previous night and just "what else" the arm could do made him decide very quickly that a cold shower was in order before he embarrassed himself. He rummaged through his bag for a change of clothes and snagged one of the towels. "My turn to shower. Make yourself at home. Mi casa, su casa and all that." 

Before Bucky could reply, Clint slipped into the bathroom and closed and locked the door. He spun the taps up to a temperature he liked and stepped under before it had quite warmed up, using the cold water to try to banish thoughts of a repeat of last nights lovemaking any time in the immediate future. 

The cold water cleared his thoughts all too well, and as it warmed up slowly, he began to think too much. How drunk had he been last night that the first thing he thought when he found out who his partner was was that he kissed the man, and then, all too willingly, really, had sex with him? But it had been good. It had definitely been good. But _The Winter Soldier_. The guy who had caused all that damage, the guy with so many kills, everyone assumed that he was a ghost story because how could he still be alive, let alone capable of holding a gun steady to shoot such a great distance. The guy who had shot through Natasha to shoot out his own target (he had never been brave enough to ask Nat why Winter Soldier had not just taken her out, but that wasn't the point right now). And, he didn't know if it was worse or better, that, not only was it the Winter Soldier, but the famed assassin had turned out to be _Bucky Barnes_. Clint could definitely remember running around playing Cap and Commandos with his brother, and always having to be Bucky to Barney's Cap, and that made things a little weird. 

Or did it?

He stuck his head under the comforting flow of the showerhead and held his breath for as long as he could. The guy was good looking, clearly intelligent, and had a wicked sense of humour and he liked it. Who gives a shit anyway? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right? He was due a holiday, and if that holiday meant spending time with a pretty cool guy and enjoying themselves, than that's what it meant. He turned the shower off and started to dry himself. 

***

Bucky stared up at the roof, finding patterns in the stuccoed ceiling. He drew in a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts on the matter, but not really knowing where to start. Barton - Clint - was just so unexpected. The kiss? The sex? They had both been drunk... It had been good, that wasn't the problem. He wasn't really sure what they were supposed to do now. He'd had dalliances in the past - mostly dames, but he wasn't immune to male charm - but he had always shot through in the morning, not... Not moved in with them. 

He sighed and rubbed his eyes before rolling off the bed to investigate the minibar. He pulled a small bottle of whiskey out and sat back on the bed, back propped against the pillows and legs crossed at his ankles. He snagged the television remote and flicked it on, looking for something to watch while he waited for Clint to reappear. 

He settled on a tourist guide show and watched with a bemused expression on his face as a scantily clad, blonde and ditzy-for-the-camera young woman talked excitedly about the latest shows and attractions to have opened in Sin City. 

By the time Clint emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but his towel, Bucky had polished off one small bottle of whiskey, and was onto another one. He was starting to feel a little tipsy, though that never lasted long for him, anyway. He carefully tried to kept his eyes on the television as Clint got dressed, but the reflection in the screen did offer a nice view. 

Clint chose to just put on a pair of board shorts before getting a drink of his own and sitting next to Bucky on the bed. 

"Yeah, but you're here," Clint said, carefully paying attention to how Bucky reacted to that; testing the waters to see if he needed to back off or not. When Bucky gave him space, he figured it would be ok to sit next to him at least. 

"You want to cuddle?" Bucky lifted his left arm as Clint sat next to him and then draped it across Clint's shoulders. A thrill shot through Clint as the cold weight wrapped around him, fingers lightly grasping his shoulder. How many people had been so close to this particular weapon when they weren't being threatened with it? "Are you ok?"

Clint frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"This. Last night we were both drunk. Then you tried to run out on me. Now we've moved in together and you want to cuddle?" 

"I... What..." Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't catch a damn break," he muttered and shrugged. "Since this is just going to be a Vegas fling, I figured I might as well take advantage." 

Bucky chuckled and settled in, getting more comfortable next to Clint. "So that's all you think this is? A fling?" He pretended to be outraged. 

"That's over the top acting," Clint said. "And I don't... I meant..." How was he going to explain this? "I figured that once we get out of this strange world that is Vegas, we'd be going our separate ways." He picked at a loose thread on his board shorts. 

"Oh." 

"I mean we don't have to..." 

"But you don't want to be seen with me?" Bucky's acting of his outrage was getting worse, and Clint poked him in the ribs. 

"Found with you more likely. Can't imagine the Avengers would appreciate it."

"At least one of them would."

"What, 'Hi Cap, here's your long lost pal. By the way, we got married in Vegas'?" Clint joked. 

"Ha. Steve would just be angry he wasn't here to celebrate with us."

"No way."

Bucky shrugged.

"I don't believe you."

"Your funeral." Bucky nonchalantly sipped his whiskey. 

Clint couldn't figure out just how much Bucky was joking and decided to ignore it. He turned his attention to the screen just as an advertisement for the wax museum came on. He was slightly creeped out by their enthusiastic advertising of their latest exhibit - a slightly too realistic Captain America, Iron Man and Tony Stark. He reached for the remote, but Bucky kept it out of his reach. 

"Come on, those things are creepy. Change the channel." 

"No way. I want to see if there's one of you." 

"What? No! No way. You're an ass, Barnes." 

"I think we should go to see them." 

"I am nowhere near drunk enough for that." Clint shook his head. 

Bucky offered his small bottle out in a toast to Clint. "Bottoms up then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this. I'm having a lot of fun writing it. Just so you know, if there's something you'd like to see them get up to while they're hiding out, feel free to shoot me a message at my [tumblr](http://thiswilldrivemecrazy.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

"How did you...? I mean, there are lucky people and lucky people and then theres you," Bucky said as they walked away from the craps table, Clint grinning broadly and flipping a $50 chip over and over again, his other hand was shoved in the pocket of his jacket, and wrapped around the other $700 dollars worth of chips. That wasn't counting the large tip he had given the girl bringing them drinks all morning, or at least he thought it was still morning. It was hard to keep track of the time on the gaming floor - there were no clocks, or none that could be seen from their table. He knew that it was getting on in the day, but only really because he was starting to get hungry. 

"Dice like me. Well, not really, but I know the odds pretty well. That's another two weeks worth of food and accommodation if we're not stupid with it. Or a couple of days worth of spending it up being tourists."

"Plus what you won on roulette." Bucky added, snatching the chip out of the air as Clint flipped it again. 

"Hey! That's..."

"Ours. You've been gambling all morning. Don't you think it's my turn?" Bucky pocketed the chip. 

"I didn't know we were taking turns," Clint replied. He pretended to stumble, ran into Bucky and tried to pickpocket the chip back. Bucky grabbed Clint's wrist while his hand was still in his pocket. 

"I wasn't born yesterday..." 

Clint laughed. "You make that joke too easy." He pulled his hand out of Bucky's pocket, but did leave him the chip. "You're far too old to have been born yesterday. Let's get something to eat. And then... then, maybe I'm drunk enough to go and look at those wax things." 

***  
Clint watched Bucky sit down opposite him again with yet another plate of food. Clint had finished eating about half an hour earlier and had been nursing yet another beer and a slice of cake (with ice cream and topping of course) as Bucky had kept fetching new plates of food. 

"Your arm's hollow, isn't it?" Clint asked as Bucky shovelled some sort of macaroni salad into his mouth. 

Bucky stopped midway through lifting his fork to his mouth. The sign had said 'all you can eat' and he couldn't actually remember a time when he had seen so much different food in one spot before. He wasn't a fan of the desserts they had out, so he had decided to stick with the savoury food. He felt strangely defensive about Clint accusing him of eating too much, but he decided to try and brush it off. 

"I'm hungry, alright?" 

"Uh-huh. I'll take that as Bucky-code for 'I have a hollow arm'." 

"You're an ass." 

Clint laughed. "I'll give you that one." He drained the last of his beer in a couple of mouthfuls. "You done?" 

"I haven't even started on the cakes yet..." Bucky looked over his shoulder at the dessert buffet.

Clint raised an eyebrow, really quite amused. He'd been genuinely surprised to see Bucky's reaction to the all you can eat buffet they'd chosen for lunch, and that wistful look at the chocolate cake sitting in the middle of the dessert table was, well, adorable. He laughed when Bucky turned around and looked at him. The guy just looked so hopeful.

"What?" Bucky frowned as Clint started laughing.

"Your expression. You looked like a kid at Christmas." 

"Oh." He sat up a little straighter and pushed his cutlery into the middle of his plate.

Bucky looked so dejected and uncertain that Clint caved. He couldn't keep teasing him. "Dude, go and get some cake. I was kidding. Seriously. Want another drink?" He gestured with his own empty bottle at Bucky's almost finished one. 

Bucky let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and blinked a couple of times. Had he really been thinking that he was just going to pass on the dessert because Barton said so? He ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to calm down. He could choose to have dessert if he damn well wanted it. He took another deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I need another drink." He stood up, and walked over to the dessert bar. 

Clint watched him walk off, hoping that he hadn't said something to really offend Bucky. He hadn't meant to. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before standing to go and get their new drinks. When he came back, Bucky was digging into what looked to be almost a quarter of the cake. He grinned as he put the drinks down on the table.

"Having your cake and eating it too?" he asked. He tried once again to hide his smile and laugh by drinking, but clearly his drunk self thought that he was far too funny and he started coughing again. 

Bucky looked up and raised an eyebrow as Clint started coughing. "Beer doesn't belong in your lungs."

"Yeah... yeah I've got that," Clint said as he finally got his breathing back under control. "I guess that's karma, right?" 

"Pretty much." Bucky continued to eat his cake, shovelling it into his mouth as if it would go somewhere on its own if he didn't. He finished in what Clint thought was record time for that much cake after that much food and sat back in his chair, picking up the beer Clint had brought over for him. He burped as he relaxed back into his seat and let his head roll back for a moment. "I don't think I've been this full in a very long time." 

"You did eat, like, half the buffet." 

"Did not." 

"Did too." 

"Did... you know, I'm not going to go there. And you're lucky you're cute." 

"I am?" 

"Yeah. Or else you'd be in big trouble." 

"And if I _wanted_ to be in trouble?" 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. "That could be arranged. But not until after we go to the wax museum." He drained the last of his beer, put it back down on the table and burped again. "Though. If we could go there slowly, I'd appreciate it." 

Clint finished the last couple of mouthfuls of his own drink and stood up, leaving a generous tip on the table. "I think we can manage that. Come on, Belly... I mean Bucky." Clint laughed at his own joke again and offered Bucky a hand up. "Let's go and see these creepy models."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thanks everyone for reading this :) I hope you all enjoy the this chapter.

"4D Heroes Experience?" Clint asked, slightly confused by the idea. Maybe he shouldn't have been so eager to visit the attraction drunk. The girl behind the desk had been very patient with him, but he could still tell she wasn't very impressed with his "tipsy" state. He couldn't be all that drunk, surely?

"Yes, sir. It's a 3D movie with motion simulation and some other interactions with the Avengers."

"Coooool. We should do that, shouldn't we, Jim?" Clint laughed and just managed to stop himself from adding 'See how it compares to really being a hero." Really, when had he gotten this drunk?

Bucky leant in and patted Clint on the shoulder with his right hand, his gloved left shoved into the pocket of his jacket. Clint's drunkeness had increased significantly since they had left the restaurant. Clint hadn't had that much to drink, had he?

"Sure thing, Francis. Sounds like fun," he said.

Clint handed the money for their tickets to the cashier, who looked rather apprehensive as she handed the tickets and change to Bucky. The blonde man wasn't the drunkest person she had seen that day, and he seemed friendly, rather than belligerent, but she still thought it was safer to give the tickets to the dark haired man. Bucky accepted the tickets and change from her with his right hand and pocketed the money as they walked off towards the entrance. He slung his right arm around Clint's shoulders to try and help him not to stumble too much.

"Just how much have you had to drink, Clint?"

"S'much's you," he slurred. "'ut 'chu ate more." He took a couple of deep breath as they walked. The world was starting to spin a little bit, but they were going to do something fun, and he didn't want to ruin it for Bucky.

"Do you want to sit down for a bit? Wait for it to wear off?"

"Nah. I'll be fine," Clint said slowly and carefully. "Though... m'be we don't do the motion simulator thing 'til after we've seen the figures. Jus' in case."

Bucky chuckled. "That's probably a good idea."

They made their way through the halls, looking at the figures and generally avoiding groups of families and friends who were excited to be in there.

"D'you even recognise half these people?" Clint asked as they stopped in front of the figure of Brad Pitt.

"Some of them," Bucky said. "I've been watching a lot of television in the past few months. I enjoyed some of his movies." He shrugged. He was about to wonder aloud if it really mattered, when a small group of children ran past, all dressed up in various Avengers costumes. He wasn't surprised to see two little Captain Americas leading the group with a tiny girl dressed as Hawkeye and boy as Black Widow walking hand in hand behind them. He was elbowing Clint gently to point out the small Hawkeye, when he saw, and finally figured out who the last of the children in the group - who looked to be the youngest - holding his mothers hand tightly, and dressed in something that resembled his Howling Commando outfit, right down to the boots and those damn wings on his sleeves and with a brightly coloured toy rifle slung across his back.

"Cat got your tongue, Barnes?" Clint asked, grinning at the group of kids. "Kids grew up - grow up on stories of Captain America and the Howling Commandos, y'know. Some kids even prefer Bucky Barnes over Steve Roger. Dunno why..."

"You're an ass, Barton."

"Yeah." Clint grinned. "C'mon, let's go and watch them play with the superheroes. And then - maybe, maybe - I think I'm starting to get sober enough for the ride thingy."

The group of kids were running excitedly around the posed superhero figures in the exhibit. A genuinely enthused young photographer was trying to round them all up into a group and get them to pose in front of the figures. The little Black Widow and Hawkeye were being co-operative, but the two Captain Americas were chasing a squealing and laughing the small Bucky around and around the Hulk's feet. Bucky's eyebrows lifted sharply when he realised that the small child was actually a girl.

Clint chuckled at his reaction. "Even little girls gotta have heroes, right?" He nodded towards the small Hawkeye. "She's got much better taste."

"I said it before, and I'll say it again, you're an ass, Barton," Bucky replied quietly.

"There's children around, Barnes," Clint whispered.

"And that's why I said it quietly."

They hung back until the photographer finally managed to wrangle all the children to stay still long enough to take their photo, and then the children started playing again. As Clint and Bucky got closer to the exhibit, Bucky made a point of not looking at the Captain America figure. Not just yet. He still wasn't entirely sure how he was going to react, especially since the Instead, he focussed on Clint's reaction to the Hawkeye figure.

Clint stood still with his head tilted to the left, and then the right and then he walked around the figure. It was in a very dynamic shooting pose, but it just wasn't quite right. Then again, he hadn't actually been around when the sculptures had been done, and he suspected SHIELD had had a hand in hiding what he actually looked like. The biggest differences were a narrower nose, and that, standing upright, the sculpture would be about half a foot taller than he actually was, putting him much closer in height to the other male members of the team. 

"It's not bad, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Too tall, and the nose is too narrow." Bucky followed Clint around the statue. 

"Are you suggesting I have a big nose?"

Bucky smirked. “Nah. Just bigger than that.” 

He was about to take a step back, when one of the children barrelled into his legs. He flailed a little, trying to avoid falling over on top of the child, but her continued movement around his legs to avoid her pursuers coupled with the two little Captain Americas following her finally defeated his balance, and he dropped. He reached behind him for the small girl as he fell, pulling her out of the way so he wouldn’t land on her. She squeaked as he grabbed her, and her mother was running over a few seconds later.

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” the mother asked. “I did tell them not to run around, but kids, hey?”

Bucky found it a little strange that she was asking if he was alright, and not asking the child, but the child clearly wasn't distressed - she was sitting on his chest, staring at him, eyes wide in almost disbelief. As he moved her off his chest (since she didn't seem to be moving herself), she whispered, "You're Bucky Barnes." She looked up at her mother as the lady took her hand and pulled her away. "Mom! It's him. It's..." 

"Becky. Quiet. No. No. I've told you before. He died a long time ago, sweetie." 

"But the news said..." 

"No. I won't hear another word of this. Look. I'm sorry, mister. She gets a little excitable. They all do." She looked around to the rest of the kids. "Come on, we need to be going. You can't all run around like this. You're disturbing other people. Let's go off to the ride? Okay. Come on." 

Bucky sat up, propping himself with both hands on the ground behind him and watching the family file out of the room. He took a couple of deep breaths. If she had recognised him, why hadn't the mother? Had other people? He had been far too stupid coming here, and not just staying in his hotel room. He shouldn't have listened to Clint. Shouldn't have come out... 

Clint offered him a hand to his feet, and he reached up and took it. "You ok?" 

"Yeah. No... no. I don't think so," he said. 

"Seriously? A kid managed to down the..." Clint 

"Don't say it. Not here. Not... It's not safe." 

Clint frowned at the sudden change in Bucky's attitude. "What happened?" 

"She knew who I was." 

"The kid? The little Bucky?" 

Bucky nodded. "I don't know how..." 

"You do still look like you."

"Not helping." 

"You heard her mom though, she didn't believe the kid. It'll be fine. 'm sure of it." 

"Are you ok?" The photographer walked over to them, looking concerned. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" 

"No. I'm... I'm ok. Just a little surprised." He stood stiffly, forcing himself to calm down. They didn't need to give the young guy any reason to remember them - well, not more than he already would.

The photographer gave a relieved smile. "Good. Good. Look..." He dug in a pocket of his camera bag and offered them two cards. "Look, Here's a couple of free picture vouchers." He hefted the camera. "Maybe, we'll put you in front of Cap?" He reached out to guide Bucky to stand next to Captain America. Bucky almost resisted, but decided that the best way to get rid of him was to play along. They didn't have to download the pic, and no-one would find it, anyway, right? "And we'll put you next to..." 

"Hawkeye," Clint finished the suggestion for him. He grinned when Bucky looked at him in surprise. "What? Archers are pretty cool."

"Cool. Cool. Well, you wanna take a combat stance? As if you were drawing the bow?" 

"Can do. Well, I might be a little wobbly..." 

"Not a problem. Now. Maybe hands up in a fighting stance? Cool. Yeah. Like that. You guys know what you're doing." He took a couple of steps back and lifted his camera. He took several shots and smiled. "Thanks." He reached into his other pocket and took out another card. "Your pics will be against this number. You can find them online this evening." 

Clint forced himself to smile as he took the card. Online? He hoped there was a login associated with that, otherwise anyone could see it, and if the wrong people were looking they could be in trouble. "Thanks, bro." 

The photographer left them alone as another group of young men came into the room and Clint used the distraction to try to lead Bucky away and towards the simulator. Bucky was staring at the Captain America figure, quite obviously lost in thought. Clint wasn't really sure if he wanted to interrupt him. Instead he decided to amuse himself trying badly to take a picture of himself with the Black Widow figure. 

"We should go," Bucky said eventually. His tone of voice had changed, and he seemed to be a lot more determined. "We need to be out of here when those pictures are uploaded. As in out of Vegas completely." 

Clint was a little surprised that Bucky has said 'we', but he rolled with it. They'd done so much together, even just in the short amount of time they'd been hanging out - had it really been less than a day? But there was something about Bucky that just clicked with him and he wanted to help, and wanted to stay with him. "There's enough people here that anyone will struggle to find us. Just change hotels. New names, keep low. We'll be ok. Promise." 

Bucky took another couple of deep breaths. Barton certainly had a calming effect on him, even if he didn't completely understand why. He could do this. They'd draw more attention if they didn't act like the other tourists, anyway. "I'm ok. I'm ok. Let's go do this ride. And then I think I need another drink."

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note: I haven't actually been to madame tussauds (in vegas or otherwise), but I am aware that there's only a few figures at each one. I figured since the superheroes actually exist, they'd probably have more there.


End file.
